


violet eyes stare through the wood

by shipcat



Series: Naruto Event Work [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen, Gen Work, Ghost Stories, Horror, Nara Forest, Naruto Events, ShikamaruWeek2019, Traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-21 23:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17651810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipcat/pseuds/shipcat
Summary: The deeper the woods, the looser the soil. Deer heads swivel towards him—eyes lit with the pale orange lantern fire—white tails flashing as they disappear. Moths take their place in swarms, purple-eyed wings winking through the incense smoke. They take one look at the incense lantern swinging on Shikamaru’s wrist and choose to stay where they are, rather than chase the light.The taste of holy things does not appeal to them.***On this day we remember those who we’ve lost, and those we’ve taken.





	violet eyes stare through the wood

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **ShikamaruWeek2019** \- prompt, Quotes and Tradition.

It was that awkward time when summer leaks into fall, when monsoons from the Land of Water had turned the ground into a soggy red clay, sucking and pulling at the sandals of one Nara Shikamaru. He murmurs half-hearted prayers, taught to him by his father, taught by his father, and his father before that, back from when the Land of Fire was less of a country and more of a war zone.

It is said that the Nara had roamed these forests long before the God Tree had spread its branches, and that they would continue to do so long after people had forgotten to use chakra and the world passed into another reincarnation cycle. There were more Senju and Uchiha buried here than in Konoha village proper, and their spirits lingered.

It is further said that on dark nights Hashirama appears in the gnarled faces of trees, luring the unaware with promise of company--a good joke, a warm meal. Child-like voices softly cry when one approaches the visage of the first Hokage; the wind makes the same moans as Shikamaru moves through the branches, whispering old wives’ tales into his ears.

Shikamaru remembers telling such tales when camping on a mission. Ino snorted and hid shivers behind crossed arms; Chouji laughed and buried that fear in his stomach. Their fire—small for stealth—crackled its weak assent, and their teacher chewed his cigarette thoughtfully, puffed it once or twice, smile moving in and out of its orange ember.

“Not even death can extinguish the Will of Fire.”

Soon enough, it will be time to teach Shikadai the same. Soon enough, but hopefully not, he thinks, strolling through the air as though it were mud—thick and suffocating.

The deeper the woods, the looser the soil. Deer heads swivel towards him—eyes lit with the pale orange lantern fire—white tails flashing as they disappear. Moths take their place in swarms, purple-eyed wings winking through the incense smoke. They take one look at the incense lantern swinging on Shikamaru’s wrist and choose to stay where they are, rather than chase the light.

The taste of holy things does not appeal to them.

New moon, starless sky, the feeling that one is not quite alone. Shikamaru picks his way over small hills, waving his lantern over the overgrown earth and watching the wild herbs shrink away. Vines poke out from the mounds, reaching for him with twiggy hands. If, on occasion, he looks down and sees a too-brittle, too-ivory stick, he shrugs it off and pretends it’s not bubbling with little red spores.

Violet eyes stare through the wood, and mockingly disagree.

His eye twitches. The lantern clinks as he sets it on the grassless earth, flicking a cigarette out of his pocket. Clove smoke rises up to mix with that of the sandalwood incense. The moths blink.

“Annoying,” he breathes.

It would be so easy to kick the lantern over. To watch the hot ashes leap into the forest like fleas on a wolf, that grow beyond their size—consuming bark and graves and deers alike.

He hears the woods howl and shrink back, muzzle covered in mange, whiskers crawling with scrabbling red limbs. He sees its legs fall to flame, and crumple to ash. He feels its demise.

He inhales, sweet and silver, until his lungs nearly burst with the memories of people passed and days gone by. Then he exhales.

Smoke drifts up through the branches, heavy with sudden misery. Shikamaru boredly watches the leaves droop, tuning out the prayers of the earth.

“I am your god now,” Shikamaru exhales, exhausted. He has no energy to bother convincing himself, let alone a demon slain decades ago.

It’s all too troublesome.

Really.

**Author's Note:**

> Another work written for an event on Tumblr. I had a lot of fun doing this one! Horror is fun for me hah. 
> 
> If you liked it let me know with a kudos? Comment if you're feeling adventurous!
> 
> My [Tumblr](thatshipcat.tumblr.com).
> 
> My [PillowFort](pillowfort.io/thatshipcat).


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